It is a game about being Deleted by God and the struggle to stop from fading into nothing. It is an entry for the November Ronnies using the words Mud and Gun. It is incomplete, only about 5 hours total work before life stopped me from finishing it. I’m submitting what got done.

Here is how it starts. One normal day. Maybe you were at work, or school, or maybe still in bed. The next thing you know you cut yourself, or your nose starts to bleed, but there is no blood like blood that you have seen in the past. There is mud. Rather a reddish brown mud.

You freak out, and go to the doctor. The doctor isn’t very helpful. Not because he thinks its normal or he doesn’t know what is wrong with you, but because he doesn’t even see you. You sit there waiting, holding your mud in, but the nurse keeps forgetting about you. Eventually you can’t take it anymore and you leave, possibly even telling them what you think of their ‘service’. They look at you like they were seeing you for the first time. Maybe they even call the police on you.

Defeated you end up at home, or jail or where ever. Maybe you cry yourself to sleep, holding a rag over that muddy nose. Maybe just maybe you sit staring at the T.V. Or making calls to your friends and family wondering what has happened to you. They don’t seem to answer the phone, and when they do they quickly hang up to deal with other things in their lives.

Then late at night. Past midnight at least. There is a darkness on your floor where it meets the wall. A darkness like a snake, that moves toward the corners where the walls come together in a crooked angle. From that angle, that off corner, is born the Devil, wearing a shit eating grin, and looking hungry. He tells you all the things you don’t understand, and laughs when you ask him his name. He tells you that God has deleted you, and that soon you will be no more, unless you fight. That he is leaving something for you. Under the bed, or maybe in the closet. A gift, ?to help?, he says. He says that there are others like you, that they too are looking for a way out of their fate, that maybe you could find them.

After he is gone, you don’t remember when he left. You denied it for awhile. Told yourself that he never was real. That you just had a bad day. So you go to bed again. Then you get curious. What if it wasn’t a bad day? What if the Devil is real? Slowly you get out of bed, and lift the covers to reveal underneath it. There it is. Something you know was not there before tonight. Something that only the Devil would of left for you. A gun.


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